Priestess
by Lady 'Oak
Summary: There, once, were the Priestesses, the women who wielded the power of the God. They were all killed and the magic had gone away with them. But in the act of the final desperation one is granted the power again in the time of war beginning. Bets on the pai
1. Prologue

Note:  
  
Beginning of the epic fantasy novel (aren't I *so* full of myself today?), which includes everything you might seek in such: betrayal between the rightful successor to the throne and the one power-hungry, shady advisor, betrayal and abuse between the friends, war tearing apart the country, one slightly psychotic hero with suicidal tendencies, granted with power he never wanted, one hero having to choose between his sworn duty, loyalty and friendship on more levels than simply one, one hero taking upon herself all the blame she has no right to, the magic returning to the realm, fate and remorse, and lots of blood and death. Yesh, I know, I don't keep my style steady.  
  
Found on my hard disk in the depths of my 'Pisarstwo\GW\Varia\Do wykorzystania\'. Hope it's worth of reading.  
  
  
  
  
The Priestess  
  
By Lady 'Oaks (ladyoak@wp.pl)  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
Priestess rose in the air, her hair and clothing flowing around her form like a smoke. A column of the dark light erupted from the ground beneath her and reached the sky.  
  
The power, vibrating around, was unbelievable, numbing the senses of anyone, who had at least a little of talent for magic. Priestess mouth moved, but no words came.  
  
She was the last of her kind. She was the last of the Priestesses of the God. All of her sisters were murdered by their own protectors, all of them save her, one, to whom God had smiled with his Dark Face.   
  
No one knew what was she about to do, maybe not even the Dark Priestess herself, for she let the power lead her hands. Small army, gathered to stop her, was of no use, the lambs left for her to slaughter effortlessly.  
  
Over the magical storm a song started to echo, the Chant of Power. One spellsong that took always the life of its caster and of those around. In the mouth of the Dark Priestess it could very well destroy the whole kingdom within the time needed to blink.  
  
She cared not for herself nor the man at her side, that stayed true to his heritage. He was the Faithful, one of the Priestesses' elite guard who turned against their own mistresses. He sworn to protect her with his own life, heart and soul, if ever needed. He loved her. He would kill himself if she told him to do so.  
  
Now, the Faithful was afraid, first time in his life. Not for himself or the fools, who brought the anger of the Priestess upon themselves, but for her. No, he already lost her, or she had lost herself in the pit of rage, grieving and insanity. There was no more before him than a vessel for a power that was to strike the blameworthy.  
  
The Chant of Power destroyed the soul of the caster too, not only his body. It used it to fuel its might.  
  
The Faithful, he loved the Priestess. He was her protector, her guard. His hands trembled when he bared his sword. In his mind it was the only way left for her. For them. For him.   
  
Time slowed down, when the blade pierced her heart. Song was interrupted by the soft wail, as she descended to the earth, falling down gracelessly. The Priestess died by the hand of the man that loved her more than life itself. He closed his eyes and placed the tip of the bloodied sword to his abdomen. He pushed.   
  
Not a sound escaped his lips, but his eyes cried the tears of unspoken grief.  
  
So died the last of the Priestesses. There was no other after her, for the God refused to smile upon his children anymore.  
  
There was no magic after her, as if everything died along with her. 


	2. Part 1

Note: I feel obliged to thank all that reviewed. It's more so, because most probably I'm going to fail your expectances towards the story, since my muses are wicked little six things. Your kind words are more important to me, since English is not my national language. Too, most probably, I will not be able to update this often, since in one and two months I'm taking my exams.  
  
  
Piestess  
  
Part 1  
  
  
Duo stood at the edge of precipice. It was the place of Sacrifice, where the condemned to death for the worst crimes met the end of their lives. More than five hundred years ago... more than five hundred years ago there were only the willing sacrifices.  
  
He was about to change it. The death, that awaited him down below, was far better than the life he had. Far better.  
  
It hurt so much to see her eyes then, this silent contempt and the lack of belief. He knew it would be so. Who would believe him? A street rat, an orphan, not even with a faintest drop of aristocratic blood in his veins. Only connection to them he had, was the fact, that his 'brother' had taken him in after the fire at the temple. Another reason to just let it all go away.  
  
What he was to them was merely a 'pretty boy', the court's pet and jester.   
  
It hurt. But who would believe anyway? Solo. He would. But there was no time to tell it all.   
  
Duo slipped off his cloak, dark fabric had fallen around his ankles. The murmur of the water, coming from the abyss, rose, calming the temple. Duo let himself lean forward. Someone screamed, but it sounded like it came from far, far away.  
  
He was falling, fast, but felt no fear. He welcomed death, but opened not his eyes. So peaceful, just falling. Please, forgive me brother, was the last thought before he lost his consciousness.  
  
***  
  
In the storm of samyeli, he heard the calling of the falcon. It flew through the sand, not affected a bit. He raised his hand for the bird to land.  
  
"What do you bring for me?" He asked, petting its feathers, but the falcon remained still. "Matters not."  
  
"Storm is getting stronger."  
  
"That I see."  
  
"Hearts of men are blackened by ambition."  
  
"As they always were."  
  
"Samyeli will take many lives with it."  
  
"It always does."  
  
"But there may something be done."  
  
He stopped on his way, looking at the bird. Not often it changed its words. So, he had to ask.   
  
"What may be done?"  
  
"The bones, that had dried in the samyeli and sun, lie restless now. They rattle and clatter, shaken by the wind. All they need is a drop of blood."  
  
"What blood."  
  
"One that was spilled now."  
  
"Whose blood is it?"  
  
"Of the one pure and of the one tainted."  
  
The falcon stared at him thoughtfully.  
  
"Who is the pure and who is the tainted?"  
  
"They are the same."  
  
"Are they the one and the same person?"  
  
"Now they are, as they have been. Together, yet not touching."  
  
"Was ever the time they were apart?"  
  
"Not once. Not ever will be. They always travel in the samyeli."  
  
"Whose are the bones?"  
  
"Of ones that had lived before and will live again, for the blood was spilled. The bones, that lie in the desert, at the mercy of the sun and samyeli, had awoken to the life. Fates are the cruel mistresses, but their duty is bound to the One, who sees everything. His face shows anger at the world and the men, who inhabit it, for they have no shame in their desire for power and lust. And time has come to begin again."  
  
Falcon stretched its wings and the dream ended. Prince of the Gypsies opened his eyes. Since his birth he was a Seer, one gifted by the God with the messenger of the Fate. His path led him in the samyeli, a poisonous wind of the Desert, plane, that only those with the talent could reach.  
  
He was the only one. Never he met another in the sandstorm of his dreams.  
  
Trowa turned to the servant, who waited patiently for him to speak.  
  
"Please, call my sister to me."  
  
***  
  
She watched the shard of soul go by and felt its sadness and loneliness. It beckoned her closer and closer, until she almost touched it, mesmerized by the glimmering surface. It was a piece of her own soul she sought for so long before.  
  
But to accept that part of herself would mean changing from what she was to something she remembered, but not understood. She just could leave the gem in the sands, and come back no more to that place, but something told her, she would always return here no matter where she went.  
  
Sadness and loneliness she knew well.  
  
"Don't be afraid, little one," she whispered, lowering her hand to glide it through the child's hair. "I won't hurt you, I promise. You don't need to be afraid."  
  
"I'm not," came the reply. She smiled.  
  
"Do you want to come with me?"  
  
"I don't want to be lonely and hurt anymore."  
  
"Take my hand, we will find somehow our way in the storm." The child complied, slipping its hand into that larger and stronger of the woman. "I will find somehow my way in the storm," she whispered to herself, the child and everything else forgotten.  
  
There was a laughter, rich and soft, as someone danced in the sandstorm with the ease of the ghost. There was a song, light as a touch of the breeze.   
  
***  
  
Relena froze, terrified, when she saw Duo standing at the edge of the abyss. Without the cloak he looked so... fragile, ready to be broken. Dark bruises covered his arms.  
  
"No, Duo, don't! Duo!" She screamed, running to him, as he just let himself fall. He just let himself fall. "Duo!"  
  
She was too late, much too late. Relena caught only the sight of his body disappearing in the darkness below.  
  
"No! Duo! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" But it was too late. She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks when the sobs she could not nor wanted to control, shook her body. She didn't notice the guards, who entered the temple, alarmed by her screams, not until one of them touched her arm. Relena looked at him, a young man in his twenties. Her captain, she remembered. Agrabah was his name.  
  
"My queen...? Is everything all right, m'lady?"  
  
"No! No, it isn't! He jumped! He... He... He killed himself..." Relena clutched the cloak in her hands. "Oh, God, why...? Why didn't I notice before, God?!? Why did I hesitate...? Why...?"  
  
"M'lady...?"  
  
"Relena, dear sister, what is this all about?" Upon hearing his voice, the queen stood up with the grimace of pure rage and hate on her beautiful face, and strode towards her brother. "Sister, what is happening?"  
  
She almost snarled at him.  
  
"You dare to ask what happened? You bastard!" Relena slapped Zechs, hard. The sound of the hit reverberated in the stunned silence. "Duo just killed himself, you monster, all because of you. I resent the mere thought of you being my family! What you did to him is worse than... than..."  
  
"You wound me, Relena, dear. What I did to him? I worry for you, sister." Zechs mocked her in fake concern. "So, he did truly kill himself? Poor soul..."  
  
"Why you..." She choked on her own words, but knew. No one would believe in Duo's story, that's why he never told it. If she had only seen how quiet he became, how detached from the world he was, and always so frightened. How he changed. "Just for you to know," she strained not to yell at him again. Her voice trembled. "I will never forgive you and I don't consider you my brother from now on, Zechs. Maybe I have nothing to prove your guilt, but I will not forget what you have done."  
  
Relena turned and exited the temple. She run to her chambers, not once stopped by the guards. She was the queen, after all.  
  
***  
  
They were always three. The oldest of them took and bound together two threads.  
  
"It ends," she said in a whisper.  
  
The one, that was not the oldest nor the youngest, fingered the fiber with a faint smile on her lips.  
  
"It is."  
  
The last of them, the smallest, ripped apart the thread, and called, her voice echoing in the nothingness, almost like a melody.  
  
"It begins."  
  
Together they gathered, embracing one another, and giggled in euphoria. 


	3. Part 2

Note:  
Thank you so very much, again. It went faster than I thought. (I just played the role of dr. Frankenstein, and made my very own monster.)Blame my muses (especially Morrigan and Kobu), they are guilty for this chapter and all aberrations the characters show.  
PS - wish me luck on my exams (plus First Certificate in English in half of the month.)  
  
  
  
  
Priestess  
  
By Lady 'Oaks (ladyoak@wp.pl)  
  
Part 2  
  
  
  
A flash.  
  
The sand biting his skin ruthlessly.  
  
The song, consisting of one and only word. Come. Come to me. Come.  
  
A shadow, just out of his reach.  
  
The call. Spare him, samyeli. So spoke the Fates, so spare him, Wind of the Desert.  
  
He tumbles to his knees, unable to withstand the sand.  
  
Why should he be spared, when so many were not?  
  
He is the one, that will let the many be spared.  
  
Samyeli cares not. It tears his skin and his flesh, and will continue to do so, until only the whitened bones remain. He collapses in the sand, knowing it is his end. He will be no more.  
  
A flash.  
  
The smell of the jasmine, everywhere around, as something shields him from the fierce sandstorm.   
  
Come to me, a soft whisper. Come to me, my hope I was not given.   
  
A flash.  
  
Is that what you wanted to hear, a voice asks. Hollow voice, but not devoid of emotion.  
  
A flash.  
  
They hold their hands as they dance wildly. Three women. They sneak curious glances in his direction. They laugh happily.  
  
***  
  
Ravene was under the siege of the small dispatch of the army. The queen turned away from the window of her chamber and spoke to the captain of the Guard.  
  
"How is it, Agrabah? Tell me." Relena crossed the room, shaking her head. If only she had seen it before. Oh, she played straight into his hands, even when it was not what he expected for her to do.   
  
"Hard to tell, m'lady. Our people are tired and we are running out of resources. M'lady, have you considered..."  
  
"You think me insane, like it was heralded all over the kingdom, Agrabah?"  
  
"M'lady! You know it's not, what I wanted to say!" The young man fiercely reassured her with an adoration for her plain to see in his eyes. "'Tis only the concern for your well-being, my queen, I show. We all stayed by your side for we believe in your cause, my queen."  
  
Relena smiled sadly.  
  
"Thak you, Agrabah. It means a lot to me. What do you think of attack?"  
  
"Far too risky, m'lady, but certainly, it may be our only chance. No one will suspect such move, not in our situation there," captain spoke bitterly, forgetting he was talking with the queen. "Especially that we have no place to go now, and only a slim chance of surviving the charge."  
  
"Captain," a chilling voice reverberated in the chamber, when Relena's companion entered. Till the day they arrived at the castle, she was hidden away, not once showing her face, but the aura of menace, that surrounded her, was more than simply scary. "I advise you not to doubt the God, for His blessings are on our side. Fates may play their twisted games, but it's Him, who deals the cards. The rest belongs to us. Will we use thoughtfully what we were given, or waste it away?"  
  
Agrabah looked at her questioningly, but she dismissed him with a weave of her hand. A gesture, that told: go and speak to your queen.  
  
"We will attack. Tell the people to get ready. It's an order." Young guard nodded and exited the chamber. "What think you?"  
  
"Fates are at work today indeed. But it's rubbish, not important." The woman laughed. "Are those the armor and the sword for me, that lay there, upon your bed, my dear queen?"  
  
"Yes, they were found during the night, and restored immediately to their look. Not that much work was needed to do so."  
  
Relena watched as the woman moved towards the bed, gliding her hand over the items. Amethyst sparkles run through the shiny black surface. Both, the sword and the armor, were graceful and sleek, yet carried a deadly air to them. Created to be effective in battle.  
  
"Good. I missed them much, the fight and the thrill. But the sentiments are useless. First, few changes, dear queen." The woman started to dress herself carefully, not minding the presence of Relena. The armor fit her perfectly. "You go in the back as the line soldier and you do not engage in the struggle."  
  
"If it's your wish."  
  
"I will lead the attack. God will ride with us to the victory."  
  
***  
  
Young general was surprised, when the fortress' gates opened, showing the warriors ready to fight. They rode outside the walls, assembling, and waiting.  
  
Then she appeared, on the back of a great dark stallion dancing wildly, but obedient to her hand. She looked not a bit like a fighter, save for her sword.  
  
She wasn't the queen they were after, but still, it seemed she held the command over the soldiers. Question was, where the queen was hidden, if she stayed in the fortress or took some secret passage while her fighters provided the distraction. And who was the woman leading the unit? Reports, he received, indicated that, except the queen, no female was present in the threshold.  
  
There was no time to think, the woman raised her black sword and commenced the attack.  
  
They hardly had the time to assemble themselves before the fight begun, partially at the place of their camp, amid the tents and wagons.  
  
During the charge the woman's hair unraveled itself from the long braid they were gathered in, trailing after her in the wind. Heero thought it was impossible to have the tresses so long, ever, for any living creature. None of the aristocracy could even come up with the idea of competing with her.  
  
She was like the whirlwind, unstoppable, too fast to catch in the midst of the move. She was the first to clash with his unit, dealing the deadly blows to everyone standing in her way. Like the force of the nature, she cared not for those, that found their death at the end of her sword. She pursued forward, forcing back those, who dared to oppose her. And she laughed out loud.  
  
Sounds of her laughter were like a melody, spreading over the battlefield.  
  
Heero screamed his commands at the officer. This small batch of the Guard was getting better of them, fast, but then, the Guard was the elite, chosen from the best, with only one goal - protect the ruler.   
  
Heero hurried his horse to intercept the woman on her way. They lost the battle already, but, if he just managed to eliminate her, there was quite a chance he would overcome the panic rising among his troops.  
  
He was getting closer, enough to see the foam falling from the woman's horse's muzzle. Feeling of dread started to rise in his gut when he realized it was a vile looking beast, not the regular mount.  
  
The creature, which could not really be a horse, crashed into his stallion, making it topple over with a terrified squeal. But Heero didn't protect himself, captured by the beauty of the woman above him.  
  
Her eyes, placed in the face of the sort, that presented itself on the statues and drawings of the gods and goddesses, had a color of a vibrant dark amethysts. They shone with an unholy light of the battle rage and something more, something sinister. With pleasure, with delight in the fight and in the bloodshed. Her lips were full and moist, touched with a shade of violet, same as her eyelids.   
  
She slid of the creature she rode and smiled predatorily, seemingly weighting the sword in her hand, as if to decide if he was to be killed by her. Heero remained still, unable to think but one. 'It can't be... She's... She must be a Priestess!' No other explanation he knew.  
  
"You are the general," she stated with the amusement clear in her voice. "Aren't you a little too young... boy? I don't find your skills satisfactory."  
  
"Aren't you a little too sure, Priestess?" Heero snarled at her. She laughed.  
  
"Oh, we are barking loudly, aren't we?" She raised her sword and Heero involuntarily closed his eyes when the blade came down. Pain was unbelievable and he cried out, but she had not even scratched him, instead she killed his injured mount. Dying horse's trembling had caused his leg, crushed under the body of the animal, and most probably broken in few places, remind of itself. "But do we have enough strength left to bite, youngling?"   
  
Priestess crouched down next to him, and, leaning over the carcass of the horse, she moved her face close to his.  
  
"Most probably not."  
  
"Just shut up and finish me off," Heero weakly spoke, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"But I don't want to, that is the catch, my young general. I need you to deliver the message to your usurper king." She stood up and smiled again, but briefly only. Something strange happened and Heero felt his head hurt. Everything was swimming around, too sharp and too smooth at the same moment. Priestess spoke, this time her voice was hard and inhuman, vibrating and singing. "Look at me, Heero of the Faithful!"  
  
It was an order Heero obeyed immediately, his eyes drawn to her eyes, now dark and menacing. She stood out against the maelstrom everything else was to him.  
  
"You will go to your king and tell him that: the end is coming to your treachery and ambition. Those, who seek the power to harness it, are harnessed by this power in return. The queen is protected now. That is what you will tell your usurper king." She looked down at him. "You will tell him also that the Priestess defeated you and the Priestess let you live. Then, you will do as you see right, Heero of the Faithful."  
  
The Priestess turned away from him as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. This time her words were soft, as if reserved only for herself.  
  
"And you will seek me out, young general. And you will hunt me, last of the Faithful. But, truly, who will be the hunter in this great game, when the sides are switched and the odds are turned?"  
  
'I will...', Heero thought, before blackness took him over.  
  
***  
  
Samyeli wailed. It was breaking free. It screeched and howled.  
  
Free, at last, after the centuries of imprisonment.  
  
Sally closed the book she was reading and rested her head upon her hand, thinking. She felt it stirring for few years now, but never so strongly.   
  
Everything was becoming true.  
  
She came to the window and glanced over the walls of the Pruse, at the desert. Her eyes rested on the temple, where believers were praying to the God.   
  
"Yes, pray to your God, and I will pray to my Fates."  
  
Was there anything to be done?  
  
It happened already, for the better or for the worse, she couldn't decide. She held no regrets.  
  
Simple, to say farewell to the easy life she had there.   
  
She mused silently how much time they would need to see for themselves the samyeli free in the world.  
  
There was a light knock on her door.  
  
"Please, enter, it's open."  
  
"Akkoro, Sally. You wanted to see me?"  
  
"Yes, Dorothy. I was going to pay you a visit, but since it's you, who visited me," Sally gestured towards the sofa covered with pillows. "Sit down, please, you shouldn't be wandering around yet."  
  
The blonde complied, sighing. She adjusted the scarves, that were bound on her head.  
  
"It's really nice to see you like that, I must say. You look beautiful now."  
  
Dorothy blinked.  
  
"Ah, you mean my attire, Sally? I figured out since I'm in my homeland, I may dress like my kinsmen do. Just need a while to get used to. And it's more comfortable now, after two weeks of travel through the desert, to wear something drafty."  
  
"And you really should rest now, after two weeks of travel through the desert. How do you feel?"  
  
"Burns are gone, thanks to your and the Priest's help. The salve you both use is miraculous."  
  
"How do you feel, in general?" Dorothy looked at her, surprised. "It may be important."  
  
"In general? Oh, I assure you, Sally, you are going to laugh. Itchy and jumpy, that's how. I had this feeling for very long, but now it's getting more unnerving than ever before. It's driving me crazy."  
  
Sally sat beside Dorothy.  
  
"No, I'm not going, because it's exactly how you are supposed to feel. The worst is, you know not, why. That's exactly why you find it so bothersome, since it's natural to worry over the things we don't understand." Sally smiled slightly.  
  
"Oh...?" Dorothy inquired, interested. "Why? Is it kind of some sickness?"  
  
"No. You see, Dorothy, in your lineage you have ozzane blood. No," Sally raised her finger in the air, "let us forget about the legends. Half of millennia is enough to cloud the human memory."  
  
"Ozzane is a race of humans, but one very perceptive to magic. Long living too. With the magic gone, ozzane had not disappeared, but only mingled with the rest of the humans. Yes, ozanne blood is strong, and the ties, that bind us to magic, are hard to sever."  
  
"How would you know? I mean, it's... You said 'us'!?!" Dorothy gaped at the other woman.  
  
"Yes, I did. I'm a full-blood, as close as you can get to one. A bit older too, than you would think. Don't worry, Dorothy, it's nothing to fear, being the ozzane. Not much different from being pure human." Sally shook her head. "As to you, I knew a part of your family. Your mother, for example."  
  
"You knew my mother...?" Dorothy asked silently.  
  
"That I did. She was a brave and proud woman. And she would be happy to see you are a one too. She was exceptional, just like you. But, back to the things at hand, you do know what is happening?"  
  
"What? Where? I know only what I was sent here for. Bad... events... had taken place at the court and I fear that it may be too late for Relena to save herself. She's stubborn. And that other woman... She's creepy. Babbling about the God like some kind of zealot. I was getting serious case of goose-bumps around her," Dorothy shuddered.   
  
"How does she look?"  
  
"Well, she definitely..." Dorothy struggled for the words, but failed. "I... don't remember... It's strange. I don't seem to recall anything about her, except... She dresses in black, only in black."  
  
"Ah. Well, it's getting late and I have my shift at the hospice to attend. Hilde can't be there all by herself. You should rest and think over what I told you."  
  
Dorothy nodded and stood up, but before she exited the chamber, she looked back to Sally.  
  
"Will you... tell me about my mother, Sally?"   
  
"Yes, I will, but some other time, good?"  
  
"Thank you." Dorothy smiled an went out. Sally sighed.  
  
'I would know your mother, since it was me, who delivered you, and then killed her and your twin sister, so you could live. Yes, Dorothy, your mother loved her children so much she was ready to sacrifice one to let the other cherish the life. She was truly exceptional.'  
  
Sally gathered her things, pausing before the door.  
  
"Sometimes I really hate you, Treize."  
  
  
  
End Notes:  
For anybody questioning Dorothy's lack of immediate dwelling of the subject of her being not 'human' entirely, just don her shoes and walk about the mile in them. Pure shock, isn't it?   
Sally is a person that will dose the knowledge, regarding Dorothy's readiness to acknowledge all.   
And yes, I know, the battle sequence is... shame on me, shame on me. 


End file.
